


Aftermath

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Fingerfucking, Friendship, Kink Meme, M/M, Nightmares, Sex, Sharing a Bed, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the kinkmeme prompt: "Treville gives the Three Inseparables a few days leave after the conclusion of episode one to rest and recuperate. Aramis and Porthos, haunted by the thought that if they'd taken five minutes longer then Athos would be dead, take up residence in Athos' lodgings and don't let him leave the bed for those three days. Athos, having spent a horrible night in prison awaiting death is grateful for the contact and comfort."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

Porthos looked up as Aramis dropped into the seat opposite and frowned. "Didn't expect you back tonight."

Aramis shrugged. "Adele's taken a trip out of town. It appears I am freed from my prior engagement." He glanced over his shoulder at where Athos was still sitting in the corner booth. "How is he?"

"Hard to tell. You know Athos. Never one for over-sharing." Porthos sighed and drained his glass.

Aramis turned back to him and gestured in frustration. "He came this close to being shot! That's got to shake any man, even Athos, surely!"

"You don't have to remind me." Porthos shuddered. If they'd been five minutes later - if they'd been five _seconds_ later - Athos would be dead. Porthos stared at Aramis unhappily. "What do you suggest?"

"We should be with him," Aramis argued. "He shouldn't be on his own. Not tonight."

"He said he didn't want company," Porthos pointed out.

"To hell with what he wants! What about what he needs?" Aramis sighed, lowering his voice. "What about what _we_ need?" 

Porthos reached across the table and took his hand, regardless of who might be watching. "You're right." He smiled. "For once."

Aramis snorted. "Where's D'Artagnan?" he asked, belatedly wondering what had become of him. 

"Gone off to his bed. Or, someone's bed. He didn't specify," Porthos smirked.

"I hope you left the poor lad at least some money," Aramis murmured, getting to his feet.

"Won the lot. I've got a reputation to consider you know." Porthos took in Aramis' indignant expression, and grinned. "I slipped it all back into his pocket before he left though. He'll find it in the morning."

Aramis laughed despite himself, and clapped Porthos on the shoulder. "I don't know whether to hit you or kiss you."

"I get that a lot," Porthos agreed, winking at him.

They moved over to Athos' table and sat down on either side of him, pleased to see he was at least still lucid.

Athos eyed them both warily. "What do you two want?"

"The pleasure of your company," Aramis declared. "Your fine wit and that stylish air of sophistication that makes you such a draw in Parisian society."

"Bollocks," said Athos pithily, and Aramis beamed at him.

"Those too," Porthos said. "In fact, those first. Come to bed."

Athos raised an eyebrow. "Would you have the entire tavern know we indulge in such things?" he asked acidly. "Perhaps you'd like to see _all_ of us shot?"

"Nah." Porthos shook his head. "They'd most likely hang us for that." It hadn't escaped him that being shot was clearly still at the forefront of Athos' mind though, and he exchanged a glance with Aramis.

"Given that Porthos' levels of discretion are patchy at the best of times," Aramis murmured, "and that I can't vouch for how much he's drunk in the hour or so since I've been gone, it might be considered safest all round if you just came with us."

"Giving no trouble you mean?" Athos suggested with a note of bitterness and Aramis winced as he realised how inadvertently close his words had come to sounding like an arrest.

"Athos - sorry, that wasn't meant to - " he bit his words off and pushed a knuckle against his forehead in remorse.

Athos took pity on him with a sigh. "Oh, come now. For God's sake don't start thinking you have to watch your words. I'm fine." He stood up, swaying only a little, and they rose with him.

Outside the night was cold and the rain starting to come down. Aramis and Porthos each linked arms with Athos and together they made their way down the street, bent forward against the biting wind.

"Which way?" Porthos asked as they came to the crossroads at the end. To the left lay Athos' lodgings, with his own slightly further on. To the right, Aramis'.

"We'll go to mine," Aramis decided.

"My rooms are closer," Athos objected, taking an interest in proceedings for the first time since leaving the inn.

"You also have a stupidly small bed," Aramis objected. "Last time we all tried to get in it I ended up having to sleep underneath. And at least if we go to mine I know there's food," he added.

This sealed the deal as far as Porthos was concerned, and together they swung the still mildly-protesting Athos towards Aramis' rooms.

Once safely inside they peeled off rain-sodden cloaks and Aramis lit the lamps and fetched some wine while Porthos stoked up the fire. When they looked round, it was to find Athos still standing by the door. He'd removed cloak and hat and was running his fingers over the tooled leather of the Musketeer's device on his arm.

Aramis came over to him. "You're still a Musketeer," he reminded Athos gently. "Still our Lieutenant. No-one's taken that away from you and they never will. We won't let them. No matter what."

Athos met his eyes, and finally gave a somewhat hesitant nod. 

"Come on." Aramis' made his tone brisk. "Let's get you out of those wet things. In fact let's get you out of all of those things," he added with a grin. He pulled Athos closer to the fire and started helping him off with his coat.

"I can do it myself you know," Athos objected, finally roused to speech at the realisation Aramis was fussing over him like a child.

"You can, but you weren't," Aramis told him shortly. "Arms!"

Athos gave a tolerant sigh and lifted his arms up, letting Aramis pull his shirt off over his head. 

Porthos handed him a cup of wine as a reward and Athos sat down on the side of Aramis' bed with a tired sigh. "Nearly done," Aramis promised, pulling Athos' boots off carefully. 

Having kicked off his own boots, Porthos sat down next to Athos. His shirt was unlaced and the buttons of his breeches half undone and he put an arm around Athos' shoulders.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, as Aramis moved around the room putting together some food on a serving platter.

Athos looked round and gave Porthos a tired smile. "I just want to sleep," he confessed. "Forget about it all for a while."

Porthos nodded. "Soon," he promised. "Food first, eh? When was the last time you ate?"

Athos shook his head vaguely. "Yesterday some time?" he hazarded. "I'm not hungry."

"Tough." Aramis came to join them, barefoot and shirtless. "You're eating something. Or else."

"Or else what?" Athos asked dryly. "I'd be interested to know what you could come up with that could possibly be worse than the day I've already had."

Aramis pursed his lips. "Porthos could sing?" he suggested.

"Oi!" Porthos threw a grape at him. "Nothing wrong with my singing."

"If you're a tomcat," Aramis agreed. 

As the familiar bickering went on around him Athos gradually relaxed. He knew perfectly well they were doing it as a distraction but it didn't matter, it seemed to be what he needed. Normality. And a reminder that he had friends who did care what happened to him, two people who would at least perhaps have mourned his loss.

With these slightly melancholy thoughts, he absent-mindedly ate a few bites of things from the plate, washing it down with wine when the food threatened to stick in his throat.

Aramis and Porthos watched this approvingly, although not without concern at the remote expression still on his face.

When Athos pushed the rest of the food away they didn't argue, just moved it from the bed and set about taking off their remaining clothing. Athos too wriggled out of his breeches and underclothes without needing further encouragement, although he didn't join in with the teasing and laughter that seemed an inevitable part of three naked men trying to climb simultaneously into the same bed.

Without discussing it, Porthos and Aramis were careful to settle down with Athos lying snugly between them. With his head resting on a crooked arm, Aramis slid his other around Athos' waist, and on the other side Porthos kissed him on the cheek and shifted closer until he was pressed along the length of Athos' body.

"Someone needs to douse the lamps," Athos murmured, already on the edge of exhausted sleep despite his churning thoughts.

"Let them burn," said Aramis, despite the fact he could ill afford such waste of candles and lamp oil. "I think we could all do with a little light tonight." 

He let his fingers trace abstract lines over Athos' skin, pushing away the thoughts that kept dogging him, that if their desperate plan hadn't worked, or if the King had hesitated a minute longer in signing the order, or they'd been delayed in coming through the prison, that Athos wouldn't be lying here beside him now, would be cold and dead on the mortuary slab.

Unable to help himself, Aramis leaned in and pressed his lips to Athos' bare shoulder, needing to remind himself that he was indeed still warm and breathing.

Porthos, guessing that Aramis' thoughts must mirror his own, reached out and covered his hand where it lay on Athos' chest. They could feel the reassuring thump of his heart beneath their fingers, and were comforted.

After a moment Athos lifted his hand and placed it over both of theirs, taking them slightly by surprise as he had his eyes shut, and they'd both assumed he'd drifted off to sleep.

"I didn't thank you," Athos said quietly. 

"You don't have to," Aramis told him. "You'd have done the same for us."

"True." Athos opened his eyes and gave them a weary smile. "Still. Thank you. Both of you." He tightened his grip on their hands, and the three of them interlaced their fingers.

Athos stifled a yawn, and Aramis smiled at him compassionately. "Get some sleep," he said softly. "You're safe now."

Athos nodded, although a slight frown still creased his brow.

"What is it?" Porthos asked.

"I'm - afraid I'll dream," Athos admitted reluctantly. He had visions of thrashing in his sleep and hitting one of them, or worse, waking them with shameful cries of fear.

"Then we'll wake you," Porthos said immediately. "Or, if you wake first, and you need company, wake one of us, or both of us. We won't mind, I promise."

Coming from Porthos, who generally reacted to being woken unnecessarily like a bear with a sore head, this was a generous offer indeed, and Athos was duly appreciative. He leaned up and kissed him on the mouth, making Porthos grin at him. 

Athos turned to Aramis and kissed him too, before lying back against the pillows with a sigh.

"Get some rest," Aramis repeated, settling against him. "Sleep as late as you like. Treville gave us a leave of absence remember."

"Oh yes," Athos murmured. "Three days off for nearly dying. I wonder how long you'd have got if I'd actually died?"

"Half an hour to buy flowers?" Aramis suggested. 

"We'd have had to make the time up afterwards though," Porthos added, and Aramis nodded sagely.

Athos gave a reluctant smile. "Sorry. Am I being morbid?"

"Just slightly." Porthos wriggled further down in the bed and pulled the covers up, closing his eyes firmly and burying his face against Athos' shoulder.

"It's understandable," Aramis said more sympathetically. He had a feeling they'd all be preoccupied with thoughts of what had almost happened for a while yet, and that the best way to deal with it was to stay together, to remind themselves they'd come through it and that they still had each other. 

Later, there would be time enough for more physical forms of comfort and pleasure, but for now they were content just with simple contact, the press of a hand, the sound of quiet breathing. They fell asleep within minutes of each other, exhausted.

\--

In the event, the worn-out Athos slept soundly and it was Porthos who was troubled by nightmares. In his dreams he was still struggling to get to the prison in time, beset by delay after delay. 

Whereas in reality Treville had marched them though all protests to demand the royal household actually wake the King in the hour before dawn, in Porthos' dream he was in the throne room, trapped in a slow moving queue of petitioning people. He was alone, no Aramis, not even D'Artagnan at his side, and the weight of responsibility was suffocating. 

Suddenly the dream changed and he was walking into the prison yard. The place was deserted, no soldiers, no guards, just a heap of clothing on the ground that he knew as he walked closer would turn out to be Athos. He reached out, rolling the lifeless body over, knowing he'd failed him, knowing Athos had died alone, knowing nothing could ever be the same again.

Porthos woke with a start, his face wet with tears, for a second hardly able to process the fact it wasn't real, that Athos was lying beside him, alive and warm and safe. The heartaching misery lingered, the certain crushing knowledge of how he would have felt, and Porthos couldn't stop himself from reaching out, having to convince himself of Athos' continued existence.

Despite his exhaustion the hands on his body were enough to wake him, and Athos blinked sleepily at Porthos, frowning as he saw the tears on his face.

"Porthos?" he queried, voice low and scratchy with sleep. Some of the candles had burned down and the room was dim, but there was still enough light to see by.

"I thought I'd lost you," Porthos explained in a shaky undertone, and Athos simply held out his arms to him.

"Still here," he mumbled, pulling Porthos to him and kissing the tear tracks from his face. He felt Aramis re-settle against his back without waking, and closed his eyes, drifting off again with Porthos wrapped in his arms.

\--

When Athos woke the next morning, it took him a second to work out where he was. His heart was pounding as if he'd been running, but if he had been dreaming he didn't remember it.

Porthos was curled against him, snoring quietly with his face pressed into Athos' chest. He let his hand come to rest lightly on Porthos' head, stroking his hair. Remembering how Porthos had wept for him in the night and understanding, perhaps for the first time, just how deeply they cared.

This was Aramis' bed he was in too, and Aramis a reassuring weight at his back. At one point the previous evening, drinking his way through bottle after bottle in an attempt to numb his thoughts, Athos had wondered if he would ever feel warm again. But then they'd brought him here, the two of them, and between them banished the prison chill of stone walls and biting pre-dawn air from his bones.

Athos shifted slightly, freeing up a numb arm and easing onto his back, trying not to wake Porthos. An arm slid round his waist from the other side, and he turned his head to find Aramis watching him with a smile.

"Good morning," Aramis murmured quietly.

Athos smiled back, and yawned. "Morning." 

He wondered what time it was. The sun seemed high in the sky and it appeared they had all slept very late. Next to him, Aramis stretched luxuriously and hummed with approval.

"I could get used to this," Aramis decided. "Sleeping in. Decidedly decadent."

"You'd get bored after the first few times," Athos told him. "You've always been a morning person. It's a failing."

Aramis raised an eyebrow. "Well, it would depend on whether there was entertainment on hand to keep me occupied," he grinned, sliding a hand under the covers and cupping Athos' soft cock.

Athos snorted. "It's too early."

"Actually it's about eleven," Aramis replied, having heard the nearby church clock chime not long past. "But I suppose we didn't get to bed until the small hours."

"Eleven?" Athos echoed in surprise. "That's half the day gone."

"What were you going to get up for? We've got three days off remember?" Aramis said. "Think of it as going to bed really early instead if you like."

Athos hid a smile. "Were you really intending to stay in bed all day?"

"Why not?" Aramis wriggled further down under the covers and pressed an affectionate kiss to Athos' arm. "I need to catch up on my sleep. Some of us spent a whole day and night chasing round the countryside trying to clear your name remember. It was very tiring."

"In which case I apologise for the inconvenience I have caused you," Athos said formally, and Aramis shot him a quick look to make sure he was joking. 

"Yes. Well. Don't do it again," Aramis said sternly. "My nerves can't take it."

"Have you considered pursuing a more restful career?" Athos suggested with a smile.

"You mean like bullfighting, or piracy?" Aramis grinned. "That's no good. You'd still both have to come with me. I might get lonely."

"Well, we couldn't have that," Athos murmured agreeably, and made no objection as Aramis leaned in to kiss him.

They kissed for a long time, slow and warm and tender. Things had moved so quickly the day before there'd never really been a time for them all to stop and gather themselves, to reaffirm the bond between them and simply share their relief that it had all worked out in the end.

Athos had needed a while to reflect, but his thoughts of mortality had thrown him back to a dark place inside that he found it hard to escape from alone. Fortunately, however often he might forget or doubt the fact, he wasn't alone, and Aramis and Porthos would never let him go too long without reminding him. 

Lying between them now, Athos found himself unspeakably grateful for such unconditional love. He knew he wasn't the easiest person in the world to be with, life had taught him that more times than he cared to remember. But somehow these two men took all that he was and loved him anyway, not despite of it but because of it. 

Porthos woke with a grunt and wrapped himself firmly around Athos from behind with a hum of approval. Athos could feel Porthos was half-hard, cock pressing snugly between his legs, and his lips curled in amusement against Aramis' mouth. Such undemanding, lazy affection was one of the things Athos cherished most about their unconventional relationship, and it rarely failed to make him smile even when he felt at his most undeserving.

After a while Athos squirmed round between them so he could kiss Porthos good morning as well, and Aramis followed suit, until the three of them were tangled together in a state of mild arousal, exchanging so many kisses to whichever body parts were in reach that even Athos was starting to laugh.

Despite the late hour they were all still drowsy, and one by one they gradually dozed off again, tucked together in peaceful contentment.

\--

A while later Porthos was woken by his bladder and rolled out of the bed to relieve himself. Returning, he found Aramis sitting up and slid in next to him, Athos having sprawled out fast asleep in the warm hollow he'd vacated.

"We did alright, didn't we?" Porthos murmured, looking down at his sleeping form.

Aramis put an arm round his shoulders. "We did," he confirmed.

"Do you think he's alright?" Porthos wondered, thinking that Athos was given to brooding introspection at the best of times, and to have stared his own death in the face could hardly have done him any favours.

Aramis sighed. "He's alive. That's a good start."

"I can't help thinking - what if we'd - " Porthos let the thought trail off and Aramis frowned at him.

"Don't. It serves no purpose. He's alive, we were in time. That's all that matters."

Porthos nodded. "I love you," he said suddenly, quietly intense. "Both of you." He looked at Aramis, conscious that despite the fact the three of them had been lovers for some time, none of them had ever really said it out loud, at least not outside the throes of passion.

To his relief, Aramis smiled and kissed him. "Me too," Aramis promised. "And so does he, though he'd probably never say it," he added, nodding at Athos.

Porthos rested his head on Aramis' shoulder and sighed. "Do you think we'll go to hell?"

"For loving each other?" Aramis considered. "The God I believe in would never be so cruel." He sighed too. "But for the number of people we've killed? That I can't say."

Porthos smiled soberly. "As long as we're together," he said. "I'd follow you two anywhere."

"Oh Porthos." Aramis found he was suddenly choked up, and kissed Porthos hard to disguise it. Porthos responded in kind, and the disturbance soon woke Athos. He sat up blinking, and found himself unexpectedly embraced and kissed by both of them.

"Did I miss something?" he asked dryly, but he wrapped an arm around each of them without complaint.

Aramis shook his head. "Too much talk of death, that's all. We should be celebrating."

"What precisely did you have in mind?" Athos enquired. He felt rather better for his extended sleep, and if his bedfellows were going to suggest something suitably energetic, he found he didn't mind the idea at all.

"One rather feels it should be up to you," Aramis said, "although if I were to venture an opinion, it would be for something that doesn't require leaving this bed."

"Tell us what you want," Porthos murmured, watching Aramis kiss his way slowly across Athos' shoulders. 

Athos looked at Porthos, remembering his distress in the night and yearning to give as much comfort in return as he was being offered.

"I want you," he said, drawing Porthos closer and kissing him. Porthos' smile alone made Athos' heart lighter than it had been in days.

"You could have me, while Aramis takes you," Porthos suggested with a smirk. Aramis laughed, and slid his arms round Athos' waist from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. 

"Now that sounds like an interesting challenge. Athos?"

By way of answer, Athos tilted his head back and kissed him.

Aramis and Porthos exchanged a look then, of silent understanding. To hold Athos between them, to blot out the shadow of almost having lost him with kisses, and the press of skin, and laughter; this was all they asked.

Athos too, was by now quietly eager for their touch. He allowed himself few pleasures in life, but the company and intimacy of his two friends was what made everything bearable.

He could feel Aramis was hard against the small of his back, and his own cock was slowly rising in response. Porthos reached down and wrapped gentle fingers around him, stroking encouragingly and smiling as he felt Athos lengthen and thicken in his hand.

When Athos made to return the favour though, Porthos gave a startled noise and grasped Athos' hand in his. 

"Porthos?" Athos looked at him in surprise, unsure what had caused the sudden look of consternation on his face.

"Is this from the shackles?" Porthos demanded, raising and turning Athos' hand to examine a circle of bruises and grazes around his wrist. He lifted Athos' other hand too, finding a matching band of abused skin there and finally meeting Athos' eyes with a look of shaken horror. They'd been so relieved to get to Athos in time, to save him from the firing squad, that it hadn't occurred to either of them to ask how he'd fared in prison. 

"Did they mistreat you?" Aramis asked, quietly fierce, and tightening the arms wrapped around Athos' chest with a protective anger. 

Athos shook his head. "Mostly they left me alone to contemplate my fate. In the morning, however, they had clearly decided I would be reluctant to face it, and dragged me from the cell by the chains securing me." He examined his wrists ruefully, and shrugged. "I would have walked out willingly enough, had they but asked."

Porthos pressed his lips together, not trusting himself to speak. 

"Stalling for a _little_ time wouldn't have hurt," Aramis said, trying for levity. 

Athos tried to smile, and didn't quite manage it. Porthos seized both Athos' hands in his and stared at him.

"Did you think we wouldn't come for you?" he asked, voice low and rough and urgent. 

Athos had trouble meeting his eyes. "I knew you would be trying," he said finally. "I - wasn't sure you would be in time." He looked up then, and found Porthos blinking back tears. "I'm sorry. I should have had more faith," Athos whispered.

"To be fair, we did rather leave it to the last minute," Aramis conceded, reaching over to clasp Porthos' shoulder comfortingly. 

"Last second, more like," Athos objected, and Aramis chuckled.

"Next time you get arrested, I promise we'll be quicker," he declared.

Porthos glared at both of them. "No next times! My heart can't take it!"

Athos and Aramis both hugged him then, wrapping him in a warm embrace until he was smiling again and pushed them off with a laugh. 

"Enough." Porthos slipped his hands between them and groped them both shamelessly. "We're all alive. Let's make the most of it." He grinned, and they smiled back at him, his sudden lift in mood infectious.

"So." Porthos gave Aramis a firm kiss and then Athos, more lingeringly. "Are you going to fuck me or not?" he murmured. 

"Certainly," Athos replied obligingly. "If you'd only but stop talking for a minute I could have had you done by now," he added, and Porthos tackled him to the bed with an indignant bellow of laughter.

"Want you," Porthos breathed, pinning Athos to the mattress, his lips against Athos' mouth as he formed the words. "Want you inside me."

Aramis slid quickly from the bed to fetch the bottle of oil he kept by. "How do you want to do this?" he asked, climbing back in beside them and relishing the spectacle of their entwined bodies.

Porthos immediately rolled off Athos to lie face down on the bed and spread his legs obligingly. Aramis laughed, as Athos bent to lay an amused kiss on his backside.

"Subtlety was never his strong point," Aramis grinned, handing the bottle to Athos and climbing bodily over Porthos to settle down next to him. 

"Subtlety's over-rated," Porthos declared. "Especially when you're as hard as I am right now."

"Do you detect a hint of impatience?" Athos asked Aramis innocently, pouring a trickle of oil into his hand and working it over his fingers.

Aramis pursed his lips. "No, no, I think he wants us to draw it out for at least another half-hour," he said consideringly, laughing as Porthos immediately cursed him. Aramis wriggled closer and kissed him instead, pressing up against his body while Athos attended to matters behind.

Before long Porthos was groaning with loud approval as Athos worked him open, fingers thrusting and rubbing inside him with firm purpose, comfortable in the knowledge of exactly what would draw these noises out of him.

Aramis smiled, muffling Porthos' moans with kisses. He could feel his arousal hard against his own stomach, and Porthos was pushing against him helplessly.

"You like that don't you?" Aramis murmured, catching Athos' eye and winking.

"You know I do," Porthos admitted, voice low and already half-wrecked. He was breathing hard, and trying not to jerk his hips against Aramis as Athos fucked him with his long fingers. He could come just from this, and often liked to, but right now he wanted more.

"Athos!" he complained. "Hurry up."

"I thought you said we had all day," Athos remarked lightly, smiling at the growl of frustration it provoked. He was already stroking himself in preparation, enjoying the slide of the oil and the motion of his own hand.

Lying beside Porthos, Aramis gazed fondly at the mixture of expressions on his face as Athos finally took him. Teeth hooked in his lower lip, eyes briefly comically wide, moving to a frown of concentration that melted into blissful appreciation, before his eyes closed completely for a moment as Porthos savoured the first sensations of being utterly filled.

"Alright?" Athos asked quietly, pausing for a second, buried tight in his body. 

"Yeah." Porthos took in a dragging breath, let it out. "God, yeah." 

Athos started moving, long, slow thrusts that made Porthos practically whimper with pleasure. Athos half smiled, pressing kisses between Porthos' shoulderblades, loving the way he could make Porthos fall apart like this.

After a moment he looked up at Aramis and raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you joining in?"

"Are you sure you want to try this?" Aramis asked, although he looked so eager Athos was hardly about to say no. 

"Of course." Athos nodded, measuring his pace to fall somewhere between making it last, and eliciting the filthiest and loudest groans possible from Porthos.

His calculated approach dissolved entirely once he was subject to Aramis' attentions though, promptly losing his rhythm and making Porthos laugh.

"What's he doing? I can't see!" Porthos demanded, trying to look round at Aramis despite being sprawled beneath Athos' weight. "Tell me," he cajoled, giving up and burying his face in the bedding with a huff of laughter.

"Picture his hands," Athos murmured against Porthos' ear. "Such beautiful hands, so nicely kept. Imagine those fingers inside me, all wet and deep and so _fucking_ good." His voice dropped on the last words, almost to a growl, and Porthos' hands clenched involuntarily in the sheets.

"Dear Christ," he said tightly. "You'll make me come."

"You did ask," Aramis put in, sounding like he was laughing. "Although I'm glad my efforts are being appreciated," he added, kissing Athos at the base of his spine.

"At the risk of repeating Porthos earlier," Athos said, still controlling his tone with a considerable force of will. "Would you please hurry up?"

Aramis frowned. "I don't want to hurt you," he protested. As far as he was concerned the foreplay should last considerably longer than the act itself, and could never quite understand his two companions' occasional taste for something rougher and more rushed. They were always infinitely patient with him though, understanding that Aramis preferred sensuality and a slow build up whenever he was the one being fucked, and were both entirely willing to oblige.

"You won't," Athos promised, resting his forehead against Porthos' hot skin. "Don't make me beg, Aramis," he murmured, with a note of strained amusement. 

At that, Aramis smiled and arranged himself in a suitable position along Athos' back, who had shifted himself and Porthos onto their sides so Porthos wouldn't be flattened by the weight of both of them, and resumed a slow, even rhythm.

When Aramis pushed carefully inside him, for a while Athos could do nothing but lie pinned between them, overwhelmed by the sensations. To be joined to both of them like this, pressed between their bodies, Aramis' hands firm on his hips, Porthos' buttocks snug against his groin, Aramis' hard length filling him with a sweet ache, Porthos' warmth spasming around his own cock; for a long moment he was simply overcome.

Eventually, once everyone was happy with the arrangement and could more or less breathe again, they began finding a way of moving together as one. Clumsy at first, Aramis slipped right out and laughed, thrusting back in with an abruptness that made Athos groan breathy expletives against Porthos' back, loving every second. 

Once they'd found a rhythm that suited all of them, Aramis fucked Athos with steady determination. It came almost as a relief; touches and kisses were all very well but this truly confirmed that all was still as it had been before. 

He flexed one hand around Athos' hip and reached out with the other, fingers exploring Athos' body and the place where he was joined to Porthos, and then reaching further, caressing fingers tracing over Porthos' skin, linking the three of them together.

Athos could normally keep going for some time, but this dual assault on his senses soon left him helpless and groaning. It was rare for his quiet control to slip, even during sex, but now he gave himself up utterly, letting the moment stretch out and sweep him away.

With Aramis making pleasure burst through him with every thrust and Porthos clenching around him with every stroke of his own, Athos gave in to a gratifyingly intense climax, spending into Porthos' body with a shuddering moan.

Porthos took this as his cue to let go as well, having been desperate for some time but determined not to come before Athos had. He spilled his release thankfully between his belly and the sheets, untouched by his hand.

When they'd both come, Aramis withdrew and let them disengage from each other, palming himself patiently as he watched them kiss each other in panting exhaustion. They turned to face him, Porthos wrapping his arms around Athos from behind and drawing him back against his chest. He grinned at Aramis. "Do it," he urged. "Mess him up."

Athos didn't protest, transfixed by the sight of Aramis' cock sliding through his fist with an unhurried deliberation.

Aramis smiled and quickened his stroke, kneeling up before them and catching Athos' eye before deliberately spending his load all over Athos' groin and thighs.

It was Porthos who groaned, burying his face in Athos' hair and nuzzling him. "Fuck that's hot."

Breathing hard with a sense of deep satisfaction Aramis sagged to the bed next to them, where Athos kissed him with an approving ferocity that suggested he wasn’t nearly as exhausted as he looked.

They all made a cursory effort to clean themselves up and lay back down together, ignoring Porthos' objections to lying in the wet patch he'd made.

"So, how was it?" Aramis asked, noting that Athos still looked more blissed out than he could ever remember.

"Amazing," Athos murmured distantly, then blinked and focussed on them properly. "You both have to try that. It was - I've never - " he trailed off, smiling vaguely. "I thought perhaps I'd died after all, and this was heaven."

Aramis and Porthos exchanged a look. "Well, I know what we're doing with the rest of the day," Aramis announced.

"Can we eat first?" Porthos grinned. "Sounds like I need to keep my strength up."

"Well you'll certainly need to keep something up," Aramis nodded gravely, making him snort with laughter.

Rather than move immediately, the three of them dozed contentedly for a while, sometimes conversing in low voices, sometimes kissing, but mostly just lying sprawled in a position where all three could be touching each other at all times.

After a while Aramis found his thoughts wandering. He was reminded how lucky they were, not only to have each other, but to still be alive. And not just Athos, but all of them. There was another group of musketeers out there who hadn't made it. Sent out on a trusted task on behalf of the king: it could so easily have been them lying dead in the winter woods. He shivered involuntarily.

"Aramis?" 

He looked up to find Athos and Porthos both looking at him and realised he'd missed whatever had just been said. 

"Sorry, what?"

"Are you alright?" Athos asked, noting his troubled expression and wondering what could have changed Aramis' mood in such a short space of time.

"Just thinking," Aramis admitted, reluctant to share his morbid thoughts. "What if it had been us Treville sent with those letters?"

" _We_ wouldn't have got ourselves killed," Porthos declared, with unthinking confidence. 

"They were shot from ambush. They'd never have seen it coming," Aramis pointed out, indignant on behalf of their dead comrades. "And neither would we."

Porthos raised a hand in apology. "I meant no insult to them," he promised. "You know that."

"We'd be dead," Aramis persisted bitterly, his mind irrevocably caught on the idea.

"At least we'd all've been dead," Porthos told him philosophically. "Better all of us than one of us." He curled protectively against Athos' side, reminded against his will of how close they'd come to losing him. 

Athos put an arm round him and then pulled Aramis to him as well.

"No more of this," Athos told them quietly. "For now it seems we live, at least until the fates decide otherwise. Let's be glad of that."

"We make our own fate," Porthos said. "Nobody can tell me different."

"Whatever happens, know that I love you both," Athos said sincerely, and it was unprecedented enough that both Aramis and Porthos looked at him in surprise.

Athos shrugged a little self-consciously. "What?"

Porthos grinned at him. "Nothing." He kissed him hard on the mouth and settled back down with his arm across Athos' waist.

On his other side, Aramis did the same, pulling Athos with him until they were all three lying full length once more, in a comforting tangle of limbs.

For once they had nowhere to be, no obligations to fulfil apart from to each other, and had space to fully relax and unwind for the first time in what felt like a long while. While not one of them would flinch from danger or duty, or require it of the others, however much they might want to keep each other safe from harm, it made a nice change to spend time in the quiet security of each others' arms.

The life they had chosen was frequently one of more risk than reward, and if they had been forced to face that fact more closely than usual, then the only lasting result was an even deeper bond, and perhaps a greater appreciation for the times like this, time that could be spent together without undue fear of what the future might bring. 

Knowing that whatever happened, they would still be able to face it together.

\--


End file.
